


To Be Yours

by stardropdream



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: It's the day before his free program at the Cup of China. Yuuri's just skated his eros program and is still riding off that high - that surety and power of knowing that Victor is his. And he's about to show that to him.





	To Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt I received on tumblr, " I love how you write Yuuri when he gets jealous. So could I request maybe Yuuri getting jealous or possessive of Victor. Maybe after/during Cup of China?"
> 
> This anon is a saint who had to wait a loooooooooooong time for me to finally have time/energy to fulfill this prompt, and I hope it's worth the wait. ♥

When it sparks inside of him, he isn’t expecting it. 

It’s still all new – and the feeling of jealousy is no different. Yuuri isn’t used to feeling it. At all. It sits heavy in his stomach – not obstructively, but just a relevant presence he’s not about to dismiss. 

It’s almost pleasant. He almost welcomes it. That he can feel this way at all, that he can feel this strongly— 

It’s powerful, to know he can use this, to know he has fuel for his performance. To know that Victor is the cause – has always been the cause, even before they met properly, even before they knew each other, even before he knew how it felt to touch Victor and be touched by him. 

It is with that quiet surety, that expectation, that understanding, that he watches the way fans speak to Victor before his short at the Cup of China. He watches the way Chris flirts, the way his fans reach out to him, the way that Yuuri knows, deep down in his gut, that everyone else is jealous of _him_ in turn. That he has somehow housed this sort of power. That he could stare at Victor at the side of the rink, link their fingers together, and _command_ his attention. And know that Victor won’t look away from him. 

No, jealousy isn’t the right word. It’s a comforting feeling inside himself, this flicker of power, this possession, this strength. This knowledge that Victor’s eyes are on him – that they haven’t looked away. 

He danced _Eros_ for him, to seduce him, and now his cheeks have stayed pink all afternoon, even after the announcements of the rankings. It hasn’t quite set in yet. He feels like he’s floating on some sort of high as Victor leads him back to the hotel, hand in his. Even that is a gentle feeling – Victor holding his hand, like it is simple, like this has always been simple. (It is simple, Yuuri reminds himself, his cheeks flushed, his fingers interlaced with Victor’s. It is simple.) 

Yuuri holds onto Victor’s hand like a lifeline, feels the way Victor’s fingers thread through his. It’s a gentle, sweet gesture, but it also marks them as together to the rest of the world. It’s a point of contact, an anchor. Yuuri is floating through his possession, his desire, his eros – and Victor is here, always, to tether him. 

The free skate is tomorrow, but for now, they have the rest of the evening and all day tomorrow to prepare. Victor is speaking to him – mundane things, his voice soft and encouraging. Yuuri isn’t really listening, his blood feeling too warm in his veins, his thoughts drifting between thoughts of Victor, of his skating today, of the curling, burning twist of possession boiling inside him when he thinks of Chris’ smile at Victor, the fans hoping for him back, all those people who hate Yuuri because he was the one to take Victor away from the whole world, because somehow, Victor wants _him._

Yuuri smiles to himself, a private little thing.

Of course Victor notices that smile. He hums out, dipping his head to catch Yuuri’s eye. His smile is soft, something sweet and only for Yuuri. His. 

“Yuuri?” Victor prompts, a question in his tone that Yuuri isn’t sure how to answer.

“Mm… It’s nothing, Victor,” he answers, his voice softer and deeper than he meant, his eyes dark as he looks at Victor. He sees the moment Victor notices, his expression changing subtly from warm and open to something more sensual. Victor always was good at reading Yuuri, at understanding what Yuuri doesn’t say. 

“You did very well today,” he tells Yuuri, voice softer to match Yuuri’s – the threads of desire touching at his tone and making Yuuri feel warm all through his body, his core igniting in flame. Victor adds, “You were incredible.” 

There’s a weight to those words, that praise – knows that Victor understands what Yuuri is saying, knows that Victor understands what he communicated through his skating. He has always been better at telling him through his skating, knowing Victor understands that the way his hands slide through the air is the way he envisions touching Victor, the way his body bows and arches, the way his eyes burn heavy as he gazes at Victor at the end of his skate. 

Victor choreographed _Eros._ And now Yuuri skates it. It’s a language they both understand, both speak. Yuuri knows Victor heard him today. 

Yuuri smiles, feels delirious with the praise, knows it’s _true._ He did well today. He skated for Victor. He skated to seduce Victor. He didn’t have to picture women enthralling men, didn’t have to picture katsudon. Just Victor. Victor beneath him, above him, in his arms. Victor, in the springs, smiling at him as his silver hair curls around his forehead, stuck by sweat. Victor, face sleep-mushed against the pillow he shares with Yuuri. Victor, the way his face ripples with pleasure right before he comes. Victor, the next morning, eating the breakfast his mother lovingly prepares, unashamed of the bite marks on his neck. Victor. 

Yuuri feels high-strung, his body singing, still amped up on adrenaline and competition. He’s still wearing his costume underneath his Japan jacket. His hair is still pushed back, thick with gel but some strings of his hair falling into his eyes. His body feels warm. He stares at Victor like he’s going to devour him. 

“Do you want to call your family once we’re back to the room?” Victor asks as they make their way through the lobby towards the row of elevators. “I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

Yuuri shakes his head before Victor’s done with the suggestion, eyes locked on him. He feels his eyes burning, feels Victor looking back at him – quiet, and waiting. 

_I’m the only one who can satisfy him,_ Yuuri thinks, remembers thinking the same during his skate. His determination to prove it, to show it to the whole world. Distantly, he thinks, months ago these thoughts would have been unthinkable – still shy, still shying away from Victor’s touch. Terrified of what it meant to have Victor, someone like a god, there before him. Now he knows what Victor looks like when he comes, knows the way his eyes go soft just before he leans in to kiss Yuuri, knows the way Victor’s hands feel on his body, around his cock, inside of him. 

Now, he is just Victor. And he belongs to Yuuri. 

“I skated for you,” he tells Victor, blunt. He knows Victor already knew that, can tell by the small curve of Victor’s smile – a pleased, pleasant smile. Satisfied. 

Yuuri shivers. To know he evokes these smiles from Victor, that he is the only one to make Victor look like this – and they’re only holding hands right now, too. 

He waits until the elevator doors close behind them before he turns and pulls hard on Victor’s hand. Victor steps towards him without hesitation, without protest. Yuuri lifts his hands and pushes Victor up against the wall of the elevator. 

“Oh,” Victor whispers just as Yuuri leans up and catches Victor’s mouth with his. 

Yuuri kisses him until neither of them can breathe, with zero amounts of the grace he’s shown on the ice today. It is hurried and messy – a desperate need to be close to Victor, to get in under his skin, to be part of him and never separated. If only it were possible. If only he could swallow Victor whole and they could be together always. A strange thought. A pleasant one that fizzes in his chest.

It isn’t about grace and beauty – it’s about anchoring Victor to him, tying him to him and never letting him go. Victor kisses him with equal enthusiasm, his arms curling around Yuuri’s waist with a quiet _Yuuri—_ into his mouth. Yuuri eats that sound up, kisses Victor hard and draws out every breath of Victor’s lungs, every gasp of Yuuri’s name on his lips. 

“Did I seduce you?” Yuuri whispers against his mouth once he breaks the kiss, hands fisted in the lapels of Victor’s suit, close enough he can feel Victor’s breath on his lips. His heartbeat against his knuckles. 

“What?” Victor whispers back, dazed as he blinks at Yuuri, his pupils blown wide.

It’s because of Yuuri. Victor looks like this because of _Yuuri._

“I skated for you,” Yuuri says again, slower, his eyes dark with desire as he stares at Victor. “Did I seduce you?” 

“Yes,” Victor answers, strained as he tugs Yuuri in closer by his hips, fingers digging into the spandex of Yuuri’s costume, playing with the edge of Yuuri’s track jacket. Victor’s breath is hushed when he says, “You were perfect, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri kisses him again, shoves himself up against Victor and bites at his mouth, dragging his tongue across his teeth. He doesn’t stop kissing him even once he hears the ding of the elevator and the doors sliding open to their floor. 

“Mmm,” Victor whispers against his mouth between Yuuri’s devouring kisses. “Mm— mmm… Someone might come, Yuuri.” 

He sounds like he doesn’t care at all, like the idea thrills him – and Yuuri feels a spark of pleased possession work from his toes up to the crown of his head. He holds tighter to Victor’s shoulders, tugs him down and hoists himself up to press more firmly against his mouth, to lick at his bottom lip and into his mouth, to slide his mouth across Victor’s smile. 

“Let them,” he murmurs against his mouth, thrills at the idea of someone seeing them like this and knowing, irrevocably, that Victor is _his._ He kisses him hard, drops a hand to grip onto his hip and slides down, hitches Victor’s thigh up so he can press into his space, press up against him. It’s the boldest thing Yuuri’s ever done and if he were thinking straight and not about the way Victor feels, he’d be mortified. Instead, he only feels powerful. 

Victor makes a soft, keening sound at the motion as Yuuri presses to him and they kiss, pressed up sloppily against the railing in the elevator, Victor pressing closer to Yuuri, gripping him by his hips, the leg Yuuri’s holding folding around Yuuri’s to pull him in closer. Yuuri goes, willingly – lays down his conquest between kisses, the scrape of his teeth, the slide of his tongue, the pillow of his lips. Victor sighs into his mouth, melts against his touch. 

The elevator doors slide shut behind them, but no one else calls the elevator right away. When it does start to move, they keep kissing, slower now, their breath mingling. When the elevator slows, Yuuri draws back enough to rest his forehead to his, looking at Victor. Victor pants against his mouth, his eyes glassy with desire as he smiles down at Yuuri.

“Victor,” he whispers, knows that Victor hears the promise, the emphasis in just his name. He watches the way Victor shivers. Yuuri slides his hands along Victor’s sides, and then draws away before the elevator can ding open. A young woman comes onto the elevator, casts them a glance and a small nod, her eyes lingering on Victor once before sliding to the floor. Yuuri hopes she saw how blissed out Victor looks – his hair mushed, his mouth swollen with kisses. Because of Yuuri. He hopes she looks at Victor and knows who he belongs to. 

Once they reach their floor again, Yuuri grabs Victor’s hand and drags him towards their room. Victor stumbles a little and lets out a giggle, threading their fingers together. 

“Wow,” he breathes a little as Yuuri pulls him hard towards their room, pressing to Yuuri’s side as he stumbles to get out the keycard and slide it through the reader. 

Yuuri waits exactly two seconds for the door to open before he shoves Victor inside and then pushes him up against the wall to continue what he started in the elevator, biting hard at Victor’s bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. 

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps out into his mouth, and Yuuri responds merely by biting his bottom lip again and then sucking his tongue into his mouth, his hands lifting to fist tight in Victor’s hair, leaving him utterly disheveled. _His._

“I’m the only one who knows your love,” he says when he breaks the kiss again, gripping Victor tight by his hair and staring up at him with all the fire and heat he’s felt locked inside him all day, all month, his _entire life_ since he first laid eyes on Victor— that curling, burning _need_ , that primal understanding that Victor was _his_ , and he’s the reason Victor is here now, with him, and nowhere else, with no one else. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says; the world can hate him for taking Victor away, but Victor is still his. He belongs to no one else. 

Victor’s smile is warm and gentle, despite the puff of his kiss-swollen mouth, the flush of his cheeks. “Yes,” he tells Yuuri. “Only you, Yuuri.” 

Victor leans in and kisses him, tries to make it gentle, and Yuuri lets him – lets Victor kiss him sweetly, full of love and promise and he lets himself feel that. Lets himself feel it, ignores the small little voice in the back of his head that tells him he doesn’t deserve this—ignores it and waits until Victor presses closer before he tugs down hard on his hair, slides his leg between Victor’s knees and presses it up until Victor gasps out and then moans into his mouth, presses his hips down against his thigh. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Victor tells him again, with feeling. “Yes, Yuuri. Only you.” 

Yuuri kisses him, shifts so his hips slot up against Victor’s, and rocks forward until he feels Victor shudder.

“You’re incredible,” Victor whispers when Yuuri breaks the kiss to drag his mouth across his jaw. He bites at his earlobe just to hear Victor gasp. “Yuuri—”

Yuuri sucks at his earlobe to soothe the pain, then nuzzles against the line of his jaw, his breath hot and heavy against Victor’s neck. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” Yuuri tells him. 

Victor blinks at him, as if this were never even a question – and it makes Yuuri’s chest swell with pleasure, with pride, to be the recipient of such devotion, to receive devotion from someone like Victor.

“Of course I am,” he tells Yuuri. 

“Say it,” Yuuri commands.

“I’m yours,” Victor breathes. 

He lifts his hands, grasps Yuuri by his track jacket’s zipper, and tugs it down for him, revealing the slope of his costume inch of skin by inch of skin. Yuuri shrugs out of the jacket, lets Victor’s hands fan out along his ribs and slide down his waist, settling at his hips. He tips his head back appreciatively when Victor ducks his head and presses soft kisses to his neck. Yuuri wants him to bite, to mark him, to claim him as Yuuri claims him – but this is nice, too, the gentle way Victor’s breath ghosts over his skin. Like belonging. To be held, to be coveted like this – to know Victor’s love, the expressions of his smiles pressed into his feverish skin. 

“No one else’s,” Yuuri says, with feeling. 

Victor shakes his head. “Only yours.” 

They look at each other for a moment – Victor waiting, his smile serene and weighted, looking at Yuuri like he is the entire world. Yuuri waits, waits for the request, the words from Victor— but they don’t come. 

Yuuri shifts closer to him, tips his chin up. Says, his voice hushed, “… I’m yours, too.” 

Victor breathes out, his expression softening – and he lifts his hands, cupping Yuuri’s face, his thumbs fanning lightly across his cheekbones. It’s the most comforting feeling in the world. Victor leans in and kisses him, their breath mingling. 

Yuuri waits until Victor draws away before opening his eyes to look at him. “Say it.” 

Victor’s thumb presses against the dip of Yuuri’s cheek, slides down to brush across his mouth. He smiles, and it makes the sides of his eyes crinkle in pleasure. He whispers, “You’re mine, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri can’t remember if they’ve spoken like this before, can’t remember if there was ever a time that Victor would have laid claim to him (no, of course he wouldn’t, why would he), but Yuuri knows it’s the first time he’s ever been this explicit with Victor, with what he wants, with what he feels. 

He catches Victor’s wrists, tugs his hands away from his face, and turns his head, kissing the palm of one and then the other, nips his fingertips. Victor laughs, and it is deep and warm and breathless, his expression betraying his arousal when Yuuri bites and lingers on one finger, looking up at him. 

“Yes,” he tells Victor, meeting his eyes. “I am.” 

He wants the entire world to know. But for now, it is enough that Victor knows, that Victor lays down this ownership. 

Yuuri presses close to him again and kisses him. Moves his hands to touch him again, skimming across his ribs, his hips, up his back. 

The thrill ripples down Yuuri’s spine. Victor’s fingers skim across the mesh of his costume, following the curve of the material, touching at his skin through that layer. The crystals catch the light, sparkling at his shoulder and hips. 

Yuuri tips his head forward, nuzzling into his neck as Victor runs his hands over him, searches out his zipper. 

“Watching you today,” Victor whispers against his ear. “You were beautiful.” 

His fingers find the zipper hidden at the back of his neck. Slowly, painfully slowly, Victor starts tugging it down, revealing Yuuri’s skin inch by inch. 

“You were perfect, Yuuri,” Victor whispers. “I could watch you forever.” 

Yuuri shivers, pressing up harder against him as Victor strips him down, lets the costume slip off his shoulders and slump down his arms. He nuzzles into Victor’s neck again and kisses along the column of his throat, dragging his teeth until Victor shivers, too, his breath gasping out, his adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Then do it,” Yuuri says, brazen and free and victorious, “Never take your eyes off me.”

“Never,” Victor agrees, voice hushed with desire. “Who else is there but you?” 

Such praise would usually cause him to blush, would cause him to demure or to doubt, to spiral – like this, though, pressed up against Victor, he only feels that power. The power of Victor’s eyes on him, his desire heating his blue eyes. The power of Victor’s hands on him, coveting him, reaching for him. That power of being desired, to be desired by Victor. To skate for Victor, and for Victor to _want_ him. He’ll never get tired of that. He’ll want that, always. 

“You’re mine,” Yuuri tells him as he lets his costume pool around his waist, lets Victor run his hands down Yuuri’s chest. He touches Victor’s shoulders, anchoring him, keeping him pressed up against that wall. 

“I’m yours,” Victor whispers back, his voice soft with agreement, with desire. 

Victor is watching him, pupils blown wide, and nodding. He lets Yuuri’s hands skim over him, pull at his tie, let it fall to the ground. He pulls Victor’s coat off, then his suit coat, waistcoat, each little button to his shirt. Yuuri is slow, takes his time – luxuriates in the feeling of Victor coming open for him, stripping himself down. He can see the press of Victor’s cock against his suit pants as Yuuri untucks his collared shirt. 

It’s strange how it works – all those years of longing that Yuuri felt for Victor, for someone so beautiful, who seemed so untouchable. He’s here now, splayed out before him, imperfect and yet perfect, beautiful and everything. He’s the only thing that Yuuri could ever want. 

It’s an easy thing – to push Victor onto the bed, to drag his fingertips over his tie and lurch him upwards, kissing him carefully as he unbuttons his shirt, strips him down from the suit he’s wearing. Victor lets him, smiling between the kisses and letting Yuuri lavish him with attention – the slow slide of their mouths. 

Piece by piece, Victor’s clothes fall away and Yuuri presses down against him – body to body, their breath mingling as Yuuri licks into his mouth, drags his teeth over his bottom lip. 

It’s a luxurious thing, to have this control, to know that Victor trusts him. Victor lets Yuuri strip him down, watches with hooded eyes as Yuuri slides out of his costume, both of them naked, both of them pressing together. The luxurious slide of their bodies pressing together, the shivering cool touch of lube as Yuuri coats his fingers, presses Victor open. Swallowing all of Victor’s cries, the panting gasps, the barely swallowed-back moans as Yuuri scissors his fingers inside of him, plies him open with soft kisses and gentle words, offset by the possessiveness with which Yuuri lays his hands on him. 

His, his—

He bites Victor’s lip and Victor murmurs Yuuri’s name happily, delirious and pleased.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. Yuuri would usually go slow, would take his time, would draw it out slowly until Victor was a shivering, quivering mess. Once, he got Victor to come twice before Yuuri pressed inside him, wanting to feel Victor shake apart in his arms. 

Now, though, he moves quicker, spreads his fingers one last time and then draws away, lets Victor gasp beneath him, shivering, his hips quivering. 

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps, smiling, pleased, sweat at his brow. “Please—”

And despite it all, because of everything, Yuuri obeys him. He’ll always obey him. 

He withdraws his hands and slides his cock inside of him, quickly, before Victor can fully comprehend the emptiness inside him. Victor gasps out, arches up, his entire body bowing beneath Yuuri. Yuuri skims his hands over him, traces his ribs, cups his hips, lets Victor adjust to him. Yuuri isn’t overly large, but it still takes a moment for Victor to adjust, squirming beneath him.

And then they’re moving, and it’s all Yuuri needs, all he wants. He thinks about the world outside this hotel room – all those people, so sure that Yuuri has stolen Victor from the whole world, that someday Victor will wake up and leave Yuuri, that someday Victor will return and be everyone’s again. No, no. A ridiculous thought. Victor is his. He is Victor’s. That’s how it’ll be from now on. 

He thinks about the world smiling at Victor, holding him up. But it’s only Yuuri that smiles back. It is only Yuuri who knows Victor’s love, who knows how he looks when he comes, how he looks when his hair is stuck to his temples, when his lips are kiss-swollen. 

Victor is his.

He is Victor’s. 

Nothing about that will change. He won’t let it. He has this now – he won’t lose it. 

“Yuuri,” Victor chokes out a moan, body arching, and he bites his lip hard to hold back the sounds he’s making—

Yuuri thinks of their time in Hasetsu, trying so desperately to be quiet because the inn is small and his family lives there, and it’s awkward to have sex with Victor and then have breakfast with his family the next morning. 

Here, though, it’s different. He grabs Victor’s hand with his, threads their fingers together and pins it above his head. 

“I want to hear you,” he tells Victor. “Don’t hold back. Let everyone hear that you’re mine.” 

Victor blinks at him, eyes glassy for a moment, before he breathes out a hushed, moaning laugh and arches his body. He moans, loud, his mouth open and gasping as his body stretches to accommodate Yuuri, as Yuuri rocks his hips forward to press inside him. 

“Yuuri!” Victor moans out, higher pitched now, his body flushed. His chest is a pleasant rosy color. Yuuri will never get tired of seeing Victor like this – spread out for him, his body taut with desire. Desire for _Yuuri._

“Louder,” he tells Victor again. “Let them all know, Victor. Tell them.” 

Yuuri buries himself inside Victor and drapes himself down, pressing to him. Victor’s hands scramble for him, hook around his back and hold close, his nails kissing into Yuuri’s skin. He hopes they leave marks. He hopes he bruises. Hopes the aches and pains tomorrow are because of Victor completely – skating for him, his body aching for him, his body singing for him. Victor – Victor, who is his. 

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps out. “Yuuri, Yuuri—”

Yuuri punctuates each of Victor’s gasps with a rock of his hips, thrusting into him and watching the way Victor’s body arches up, the way he takes Yuuri in, gripping at him. He arches up clumsily, catches Yuuri’s mouth with his and kisses him hard. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Victor whispers into his mouth and Yuuri smiles, kisses him back deeply. 

Victor keeps repeating it as Yuuri rocks into him, snapping his hips forward, squeezing his hand. Victor cries out beneath him, heaves himself up and buries his face against Yuuri’s neck, nuzzling and kissing him sloppily. 

“Everyone saw,” Yuuri tells him when he breaks the kiss, rocks hard with a swivel of his hips hard enough so that Victor lurches forward on the bed, gripping tight to Yuuri, staring up at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in a panting, breathless gasp. “Everyone saw me today. Everyone knows. You’re mine.” He snaps his hip forward as Victor nods mutely. “I’m yours.” 

“Yes,” Victor tells him, fingers digging tight into Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yes, Yuuri, yes—”

“Everyone could be watching me, and it doesn’t matter,” Yuuri tells him. “Yours are the only eyes I need on me. Only you, Victor.” 

Victor nods, keens softly as he strains to lift himself up and kiss Yuuri again. Yuuri kisses him back, sweeter this time, more gently. Victor sighs out a gasping moan into his mouth. Yuuri nibbles on his lip, slowing the steady thrusts of his hips and instead just pressing fully into Victor until he is seated inside him. Victor squirms beneath him, hips jerking forward to try to coax Yuuri to moving. 

Yuuri takes Victor’s hands, threading their fingers together and pinning both above Victor’s head, bringing him down level with Victor. Nose to nose, Victor’s eyelashes flutter a little as he regards Yuuri, his mouth parted and panting. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Victor tells him. 

Yuuri smiles, sultry and desired – fully in his eros now. He strokes his thumbs along Victor’s hands, refusing to let go. The blush on Victor’s cheeks neck move further down, flushed over his chest. 

“You don’t need anyone else,” Yuuri tells him.

“No one,” Victor whispers, his breath ghosting against Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri hums, dipping his head to press kisses over Victor’s face – his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, nuzzling against his ear and his temple, the line of his jaw. 

“No one else matters,” Yuuri tells him.

“No one,” Victor agrees. “Yuuri… Yuuri, please.” 

“Mm,” Yuuri answers, nipping at Victor’s jaw. Victor gasps softly, turning his head and trying to catch Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri smiles and kisses his nose instead. 

He presses his forehead to Victor’s when Victor lets out a soft whine, his body squirming – trying to get Yuuri to move, to get Yuuri to touch him. Yuuri squeezes their hands, rocks his hips into a shallow little jerk that still causes Victor to moan – pleasure and frustration. 

“I want you to feel me tomorrow,” Yuuri tells him, and there’s a small squirm in his stomach not from pleasure at the thought of tomorrow – he did well today, and tomorrow—

He closes his eyes, focuses on Victor. Victor, surrounding him – inside Victor, Victor in his arms, beneath him, straining to kiss him. 

Yuuri does kiss him then, slow and sensual, luxuriating in Victor’s gasping, hitching breath. He draws back only to press their foreheads together again, meeting Victor’s sex-dazed eyes. 

It’s only a few more thrusts like that before Victor is coming apart beneath him. That’s what he wanted, what he needed – to know he could do this to Victor, that he was the only one who gets to do this to Victor. 

Victor grasps tight to Yuuri, holds him down close, keeps gasping encouragement against Yuuri’s ear as they move together, Victor coming down slowly and squeezing around Yuuri. He kisses over Yuuri’s face until Yuuri comes, too, slumping down against him. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, the brush of his lips against Yuuri’s ear. “You’re amazing.” 

Yuuri smiles, nuzzling against his cheek, feels himself swell with love and pride – knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that they belong to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> and then three hours later the anxiety sets in and Yuuri stares into the distance and freaks out about his free program the next day that's my story and I'm sticking to it lmao. 
> 
> Check me out on [tumblr](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/), if you are so inclined. :>


End file.
